sinking your teeth into false hope
by lilypads
Summary: he fucks her with the lights on. —mattmisa


**notes1**: argh—it's 4am and i've just finished my death note marathon and idk where these two came from but... yeah. they would make such a dysfunctional pair, especially after lights death.  
**notes2**: i have to be up at 9. fml.

sinking your teeth into false hope

if you're frightened  
at least you won't be bored.

-—tan vampires

* * *

Its half past three in the morning and cigarette smoke rises from his lips.

He keeps his back straight, his eyes firm and his voice low — Mello is only a wall away, and he can't think of a worse situation than _him _hearing. So Matt chokes up some courage and lifts himself from his battered sofa, his video game on pause and his resolve as thick as steel. He walks with practise ease, leaning against the door frame and listening for tiny pads of feet.

When she arrives at his bedroom, she's already half undressed.

Matt gives her a look of appraisal — if he's going to fuck the enemy, she may as well be beautiful, right?

"We haven't got much time," he says softly, taking her by the wrist.

Misa doesn't resist, but her eyes are stones and her body is a doll. He doesn't even question it. Matt's far used to fucking the girl from wonderland; she hasn't been herself in days, maybe months. But when he lays her down and kisses every single imperfection—from her chin to her thighs—she's alive, if only for a fraction.

"Be quick," Misa murmurs, allowing him to guide her.

He turns to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "You're tired," he states. Frankly — she's always tired. "Why haven't you slept."

She doesn't look at him in the eyes. Her heavy-lidded lashes flutter. "He's there," she doesn't need to say his name. It's already imprinted on every part of her skin, anyway. Matt tastes him everywhere — inhales him through Misa's mouth. He ignores it. "He's _always _there."

They haven't got the time to waste on idle chatter, Matt thinks. But then he looks down at her again, and there are these horrible tracks of tears running down her cheeks and he curses. She's wearing one of his t-shirts; she's wearing a pair of his socks, too. And here she is, crying over the God of Fuck-ups. Matt lets go of her wrist and hastily wipes away her tears with the back of his sleeve.

"Chin up, Princess," he tries for bitter-sweet sarcasm. It works, if only slightly — Misa smiles, just as bitter-sweet.

"Fuck me," she tells him. Not directly into his eyes, just past them. "Fuck me until I forget."

Despite the brash to her words, Matt smirks. "You're pretty feisty when you're grieving, you know that, Princess?"

Misa's staring at the floor so hard, he wonders if she wishes it'll just swallow her whole. Maybe then she won't have to carry on depending on Matt's mouth to vanquish every single memory that has branded itself into her flesh. Maybe then she can close her eyes and see pitch black and not Light's amber coloured eyes.

Maybe then she can fall in peace.

When Misa meets Matt's eyes, she's alive. "Matt..." she whispers. He can already feel the life within her. "_Please._"

He shrugs and takes her into his arms — Mello should be asleep now. They've got a few hours to spare; perhaps she'll stay with him till the sun reaches the sky this time. When he looks down at her, resting against his chest, he knows she won't.

But that doesn't stop him from leading them towards their original destination.

Her body falls back against his mattress, his scent collapsing in on her; his pillow beneath her head, his warmth climbing on top of her. With each movement, Matt tears yet another piece of clothing between them — off comes his striped top; next, he peels off his jeans, then his t-shirt from Misa's form. Lastly, she takes his goggles off for him, her fingers tracing the marks beneath his eyes.

"You haven't slept," Misa repeats hollowly, "why?"

"Busy," he replies distractedly — his eyes are eating her alive. "Less talk from you," he smirks down at her, "and more action."

He's glad for the small, almost amused giggle that escapes her. But he's even _more _satisfied by the whimper she lets slip as he kisses the expanse of her neck, leaving a fire against her skin. Matt hopes to create a bigger furnace upon Misa — harder, faster, better. He wants to kiss every single part of her that screams _Light, Light, Light _and replace it with: _Matt, oh sweet jesus, Matt._

Though he's aware of the challenge before him, he takes his time for once; there's nothing like a beautiful women, laid out bare, in his bed, in the moonlight. Matt was never one for romance, but this, he thinks — this is fucking magical. Because Misa's got her eyes closed, her fair hair fanning out like a waterfall on his pillow and her cheeks flushed lightly. Speckles of bitter-sweet happiness.

When he finally ends the distance, she claws at his shoulders like a wild kitten; she's a crazy little thing and Matt doesn't want anything or anyone else in these moments. He also knows that love is a frivolous thing, something he wouldn't put bets on, but when he fucks Misa with the lights on — he eases into her body and her heart like it's his very home.

"Misa," his breath grazes her jawline, "Misa — tell me you love me."

In small, swift movements, they're a hurricane of hungry ecstasy. Entwined only by their own regrets and mistakes; he holds her body closer, compelling every single fibre of his body to heal her. To love the stretches of skin that burn with _Light _and he pushes and pushes until there's only _MattMattMatt. _His smell all over her, his sweat falls upon her — his eyes catch hers in the warmth of the shitty bedroom light and—

"I love you," she chokes. "I love you, I love you, _I love you._"

—he's alive.

/

When Matt wakes, he is alone.

They fell asleep together — the morning rays casting shadows across her face, he remembers the feel of them together. It's nothing, though. Matt pushes up and reaches for his pack of cigarettes, lighting one instantly. He inhales. When he exhales, the smoke dwindles with the dust that dances from the window light.

He rests his head against the wall and thinks of her nails that scratched love into his skin.

And then he smiles.


End file.
